


Pauses between the clapping of hands (Ma)

by TheMusicalCC



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: A dash of Janine/Egon but I don't really mean it to be the central theme, Comedy, Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene, Team Bonding, if this starts getting too sappy plz kick my ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-13 11:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMusicalCC/pseuds/TheMusicalCC
Summary: A collection of missing scenes form the RGB universe. AKA some things that were never really looked into but I find really interesting.





	1. Work clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You ever wonder why Janine always takes Peter's uniform to busts?

“Hey, Melnitz...any reason in particular why you always pick my uniform?” Janine unbuckles her left elbow pad and throws Peter an unamused look from the other side of the car.

“You try busting ghosts in a skirt and heels sometime for a change”

“No- I mean, I get that. Plus, getting slime over clothes you actually like is never fun”

“Hm”

“But I can’t help but noticing it’s always one of mine you pick”

She’s rolling the sleeves up to her elbows and seems ready to reply; her eyes trail, almost unnoticed but not quite, to the back of Egon’s head and she seems to change her mind, settling for a shrug. Which, of course, makes Peter decide he can’t let it go.

“Y’know, a girl who had a crush on me in high school kept stealing my jackets” he drops with a calculated, nonchalant tone. Janine rolls her eyes, but he could have _sworn_ Egon’s ears perked “She said it _smelled_ like me, whatever that means”

“It means exactly that” Janine said, rolling her other sleeve up, refusing to bite.

“I read about that” Winston cuts in, glancing at them through the rear-view mirror “One book I read not long ago said everyone has their very own particular smell. Not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing”

“I wonder what mine is” Ray mutters, pinching the front of his overalls to try and sniff at the fabric. Whatever it does smell like doesn’t seem to be to his liking.

“Yeah, but teenage boys don’t really smell that great. Y’know, that time when you don’t really get why deodorant matters and become suddenly allergic to showers?”

Ray looks like he’s trying to remember whether he did shower or not.

“It’s the cologne” Janine clarifies “Well, not exactly, it’s like...you can smell the cologne but also the person wearing it and it mixes _just right_ ”

“I don’t think many teenagers wear cologne” Ray muttered.

“Oh, Dr. V did” Janine says, sounding sure. Peter wants to argue, but she’s right.

“So, is that it?” Peter drones in his mock-flirt tone “Is it because it smells like me?”

Traffic chooses this exact moment to come to a halt, so Winston half-turns to look at them. Egon doesn’t raise his eyes from...whatever he’s supposed to be doing with a meter that isn’t even switched on. Janine takes out a bubblegum pack from one of her pockets and waves it.

“One, there’s always candy in the pockets”

Ray and Winston nod once as if that were a completely reasonable answer, Peter makes a face.

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Slimer” he declares.

“Says the guy who put the candy there in the first place” she pops a piece out of the foil and into her mouth. Egon mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘ _Touché_ ’.

“Alright, what’s number two?” Winston asks, now curious.

“I usually only put these on for an emergency -like I did _today_ \- and his locker is the closest”

“That’s practical”

“Winston, the traffic is moving” Egon points out. The conversation seems to be over for a while, until Peter stretches, grunts and then leans forward, his charming expression back on.

“No other motive, then?” he asks, in the tone of someone asking to be trusted with a secret. Janine takes her time blowing a shocking pink bubble before answering.

“Three. I'm short, and so are you”

The smile practically melts off his face.

* * *

Three weeks later, Ecto-1 rolls back into the garage and Janine points them to a package that arrived sometime in the afternoon while they were out.

“Actually, Janine, that’s for you” Ray says, hands in his pockets, and smiles benignly as she opens the box to find a set of pink overalls in it. She examines them with critical eye “Do you like 'em?”

“They're perfect” she says, hugging it to herself. She would have chosen something different, yes, but it’s a nice color and it suits her. She has shirts of this same shade “Thank you”

“As long as you stay away from mine from now on” Peter says as he walks past her desk, but she can see a content gesture that doesn’t match his words on his face. The expression couldn’t have lasted long “Slimer-! _Are those my cookies_?!”

Winston settles on the chair across her desk, shaking his head. Janine’s looking at the colors again -pink on the suit and blue on the cuffs- and tries to figure what they remind her of, where she’s seen that combination before.

“Who picked the colors-?”

A light stumble, followed by a muttered curse and hurried steps make her turn to the stairs just in time to see a pair of boot-clad feet disappear up them. She looks at Winston to find him pursing his lips as though to stop himself from laughing, before jerking his head towards the stairs. She looks to Ray for confirmation and he nods too, with a slight shrug and a small smile.

“Who knew, right?” Peter says, peeking from behind the archives, a miraculously saved candy bar in his hand “The big guy has a good eye for these things”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about stuff in the RGB universe that literally no one else cares about, so I decided to write about it and see if really literally no one else cares about it. One of those things was the fact that Janine always grabs Peter's uniform in her first busts and the fact that it became so common for her to help out that they eventually gave her her own. And the fact that her color combination is literally the same as another character's except reversed. Seriously. Check it out. I'm not even kidding.
> 
> Next up- Do you figure Egon really got over the trauma falling from the WTC ceiling caused him during the course of 1 (one) episode?
> 
> (Right now, even as I write this, I should be studying the atomic structure of matter. Dear God, who let me be an adult?)  
> Title references an interview with Hayao Miyazaki and the name he gives to the 'Gratuitous motion' he gives characters in his films:
> 
> "Instead of every movement being dictated by the story, sometimes people will just sit for a moment, or they will sigh, or look in a running stream, or do something extra, not to advance the story but only to give the sense of time and place and who they are" ~Roger Ebert


	2. Trust fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really don't think Egon could get over the trauma of almost dying during the course of the last five minutes of an episode. So here, a way-longer than I intended chapter:

He hasn’t dreamed of falling, not once, since it happened. But, to be fair, in order to dream, he would have to sleep more than a couple of hours, and Egon hasn’t slept a whole night since they trapped the Boogeyman, weeks ago.

He doesn’t like sleeping much, either way. There are better things he could be doing with his time, and usually, he does them. Be it trap maintenance, thrower cleaning, checking on the containment unit or even running tests on samples, he scarcely has nothing to be done, but with the string of bad nights he’s been having, he’s done almost all that needs to be done for the month. Part of him dreads the night he’s left alone with nothing to occupy his mind and hands on- the phone rings, bringing him out of his thoughts, but he’s barely bringing it to his ear when a tired-sounding voice replies on the downstairs phone. Janine? He looks up from the microscope and at the clock. She should have been home hours ago.

He hears her taking the caller’s data as he walks down the stairs and she hangs up and places the call on the ‘To-do’ pin, just as he can finally take a look at her desk and realize why she’s still in. Half a dozen open case file folders lay on her desk, glanced over every now and then as she types furiously into the new computer. Egon feels a pang of guilt at the sight. She’s been telling them they need a digital reference of past cases for the electronic spirit guide for the past month, but between one thing and another, it keeps slipping his and Ray’s mind.

“Hey” she greets, without taking her eyes from her work.

“Your shift has been over for hours” Egon states back.

“I have a shift?” she half-jokes, but her brow furrows and she eyes the clock quickly. Her hands never stop typing. Her expression tells she hadn’t noticed just how late it had gotten and he can’t help but find it amusing. He knows the feeling.

“Should I call you a cab?”

“Nah. I’ll just crash on the sofa when I’m done” she looks over the screen critically, eyes the carpets and then closes two of them, getting up to put them into their corresponding drawers. He has to admire the way she seems to know where everything’s supposed to go without even having to stop and ponder about it “I’m almost done with this file, anyway”

“Which one is it?”

“Dimensional breaching entities”

“Ah” the pang of guilt is back with a vengeance. That is a rather extensive topic and both he and Ray’s expertise would have been a lot of help for her. He clears his throat and sits down on the chair across her, fully intending to correct the fault at once “I believe I can help with that”

She eyes him over the frames for a moment and it's as though she sees him for the first time since the conversation started, her expression falls.

" _Oh, Egon_ ” she gasps, seeming deeply dismayed "Have you been skipping sleep again?" he flinches, caught on fault, and averts his face. She lets out a sigh “Seriously. When was the last time you slept? And I mean actually gotten into bed and had a whole night’s sleep, not cat-naps in the car or dozing off over your desk”

He wants to reply something clever, but the fact is the answer isn’t very flattering. He's also a tad disconcerted that she knows him so well.

"I've been busy" he deflects.

“It's...the World Trade Center incident, isn't it?"

Egon makes a face. He’s already gotten this speech from Peter, from Winston, from Ray- hell, even his mother called in to give him hell about it. He has a feeling it won’t be long before Slimer wants in on it too. Right, so he’d been scared, terrified beyond any possibility of rational thought, and he’d decided to bottle it up as he did with every feeling that he deemed beneath himself and it had ended up blowing up like a containment unit on Gozer day, with enough force to reach the Boogeyman on an alternate dimension and feed him. Could have happened to anyone, right?

Right?

“You wanna know something?” Janine continues in a whisper, and adds before he can reply “When Ray told me you’d almost died, I got scared. Weird, right? You were perfectly safe, right there in front of me messing with your lasers and I still had the same feeling I would have had if I’d been seeing you fall with my own two eyes”

He twitches a bit, not quite sure of what to do with that information.

“Sorry” she seems mortified at this.

“No- Egon, _G_ _od_ - I mean, that's just...fear. Fear is weird like that. No logic to it most of the time”

“From an anthropological point of view” he argues “Fear serves the purpose of putting us in the fight or flight state. In other words, fear is trying to keep us alive. There are few things more rational than that”

Her expression sours at that.

“Yeah, OK. Whatever. Act like you don’t know what I’m saying”

He shifts on the chair, uncomfortable.

“Enlighten me, then. What was it you meant?”

“Oh, for _cripe’s sakes,_ Egon! _You’re still scared!_ ”

He straightens, indignant.

“ _Am not_ ”

She seems to react to his annoyance with something akin to sympathy and he can’t help but to find it incensing.

“You aren’t sleeping” she counts with her fingers “You barely eat. You’re _desperate_ for anything that keeps your hands busy to avoid thinking about it- you’ve been avoiding using the pole for the past days”

So he has. He hasn’t thought about it and...now that she mentions it, he hasn’t found it within him to go to the ceiling for the routine inspection of the meters there, either. He’s been allowing Ray to do it. HE hasn't even so much as stood near the window. Is he avoiding heights?

“And you know what?” Janine continues, her tone escalating a bit “Really, I should be pissed. All that speech you gave me when I told you I was afraid you’d die, back when poor Louis showed up possessed by a dog? ‘ _I don’t care about my own death, we’re just particles_ ’ and all that _schmutz_? You lied to me! You’re- you’re just as afraid to die as any other person”

Egon feels as though he’s been struck, and his expression must have shown it, because she takes a breath, lets it out slowly, and continues, more calmly, rubbing her knuckles nervously.

“But I’m fine with it- honestly, I was more worried when I thought maybe you really _didn’t_ care. I don't mind you being scared, it's this...this determination to act like you're not that really gets my goat”

“My views on death haven’t changed” he protests mildly “I simply had an instinctive reaction. After all, the most basic instinct animal life possesses is to preserve itself”

She raises her eyebrows a bit, lips curving.

“But _you_ are above such things. Is that it?”

Egon doesn’t have a reply for that, so he gets to his feet, feigning a calm he’s far from feeling.

“I should get back to work”

“Right. You do that” is all she says, eyes back on the computer screen. She’s using the long-suffering tone she reserves for Peter and Slimer and it only makes him walk faster.

* * *

Throughout the day, it’s stepping on eggshells and avoiding each other. Janine makes it easier than it already is; on top of the fact that he restricts himself to the lab as much as humanly possible, she’s asleep for most of the morning, catching up on what she missed during the night -she’d tapped into what Peter called the ‘Annoyance stamina’ and ended up going to sleep past five. Slimer sees to the phone, dutifully covering up for her, but it’s slow enough a day that it’s barely necessary and she’s up before noon either way, mumbling something about them needing a new sofa. Ray offers to give her the day, probably feeling as guilty as Egon had felt upon realizing why she stayed late, but she shakes her head.

“Not the first time I’ve lost sleep over you guys” she says, decidedly not meeting Egon’s eyes. That’s fine, he concludes, he doesn’t feel like looking at her right now either way.

Still, they do get two minor cases and when they’re about to leave for the second one, he catches a glimpse of her blowing a kiss after them on the door mirror, her face filled with a resigned sadness that rakes through him and his stomach feels suddenly heavy with self-reproach. Apologizing would be his normal route, hard and embarrassing as it is but...by Einstein’s flip-flops, he didn’t do anything wrong! It was her that brought it up, it was her who refused to give it a rest!

By the time night comes and Janine leaves and the guys lie down for a catnap before the inevitable night caller, he hasn’t figured whether he should say something or not. Not even if he _wants_ to say something. It's in the midst of the frustration that this causes him that the idea shows up, perhaps a bit unorthodox, but probably the best he can come up with, given the circumstances. He can still use this time somehow. What had she said, that he’s avoiding heights? He walks to the pole, ready to slide down and, for a moment, he truly feels his body reject the edge of the floor with all it’s might. It passes, he wraps his arm and legs around it and slides smoothly down, the way he’s done hundreds of times. When he lands without incident, he lets out a pleased hum.

Afraid of heights indeed.

But there’s still one more test, one that will undeniably prove him right. He heads for the roof access.

The afternoon air is fresh when he opens the roof access door, he can smell rain coming in it and cool his face. He almost smiles- the problems start the minute he steps out of the stairs and into the open; the urge to go back inside is immediate and over-whelming.

“Get a grip of yourself, Egon” he mutters to himself, forcing his feet to take another step, then another, ignoring the way his hands twitch, yearning from something to grab for support. He notices everything, the fact that it's high enough that the view of the city is pretty impressive, and that he can barely hear the cars on the street. Just how tall _is_ this roof level? _It won't do any good to think of that. Move on_. Right. Another step. Slowly, he’s standing next to the roof meter and much closer to the edge of the roof than he’s really comfortable with. His shoulders hurt a bit and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because he’s trying to keep himself from shaking by tensing them. His heart is beating in his throat. His toes try frantically to grasp the floor through his boots, as if the sliver of street three stories down visible from where he stands were to suck him like a black hole any second.

Ridiculous, it’s all ridiculous! He berates himself, trying to get his feet to carry him closer. He has to do it, he has to get over this, he has to-

He tells himself a small victory is still a victory as he goes back inside. Still he feels defeated.

* * *

One week and several tries later, a bust takes them to another roof.

“Got’im!” Peter cries and lets out a groan a second later, the tug of his proton stream threatening to pull him forward “Ray, a little help here, he’s gonna get away!”

“OK!” Ray’s fire joins his “Winston, Egon, get the other one!”

He can’t. The ‘Other one’, a Class-2, barely a grotesque face floating several feet off the ground, has crossed to the opposing extreme of the building, connected only by a narrow passage. Egon has raced there but can’t bring himself to give another step as he eyes the passage and has a sudden sensation of the building leaning sideways, trying to throw him off like an angry animal.

“Egon?” Peter’s voice calls, as if from far away, but he can’t reply. His mouth is dry “Ray, get the trap out now, we gotta clear our hands! Something's up with Egon!”

“I can’t” Ray protests. Egon can hear the effort in his voice. The entity is giving one hell of a fight to escape the proton’s grasp “If I loosen right now-”

“I got’im, just do it! Stay were you are, Egon!”

He needn’t say twice, Egon’s body seems determined to stay where he stands. Frustration piles up within him. He’s fine as long as he’s not close to the edges, that’s as much as his excursions to the firehouse’s roof have gotten him, but the structure in front of him is little more than a ledge. The Class-2, seeing him frozen in spot, takes enjoyment in taunting him. Come on. Come _on!_ He’s so close. It’s less than seven yards! All he has to do is take the step...take the step…

“ _Argh-!_ ” Peter cries. He can barely hear him over the buzzing in his ears “It broke free!”

“Egon, duck!” Ray calls, but before Egon can make himself comprehend what he’s heard, something like cold water hits his back with enough strength to move him. He topples forward and down, down…

He’s being pulled back. Not by the neck or the hem of his clothes, but his legs and hips. The edge of the floor is moving further away as he’s dragged back, on his stomach.

“Come on, the sooner we get him off this roof, the better”

His fingers are digging into the concrete, trying desperately to grasp it. He can feel it under his stomach, against his chest as he draws in frenzied breath after frenzied breath. Cold sweat covers him from head to toe and he’s shaking. His eyes are damp.

“Pete, we can’t drag’im all the way to the car” Winston says, somewhere near his left leg.

“We could try” Peter mutters.

“Egon?” Ray calls, over his elbow “It’s OK, to get up. Come on, you can move now”

Can he? The edge is further but if he moves, he might still….

“Hey, we got you” Winston grabs his arm “We won’t let you fall, OK? Come on, up” he’s shaking so much that he can barely comply, but when he does, the world spins and he’s sure he’s going to end up falling either way. He closes his eyes “Alright, easy, come here...”

Soon he’s inside, safe and sound. He can finally think. He can finally move...

And he’s miserable beyond any description. His legs give out at the end of the roof access stairs and he sits on the steps. He puts his head between his knees, hands on his nape.

“Well, since he’s finally making a face that isn’t a deer in headlights, I think he’s good now” Peter says, patting him on the back. The contact is rough, but heavy with good intentions.

“You need a moment?” Winston offers. He grunts, his body is still trembling.

“...the ghost, I let it go” he mutters. A small pause follows.

“Winston got it” Ray says slowly, his tone dripping concern “Don’t you...don’t you remember?”

He glances at them and finds three sets of equally worried eyes. Peter touches his hand and tuts.

“Cold as ice. Hey Spengz, tell us the last you remember. Slowly. Do you remember falling on your face?”

“I...” On his face? No, he'd- or had he? _OK. Slowly._ He remembers something cold and slimy touched him and he lost footing and- he looks at them, feeling a bit helpless “Did someone push me?”

“The class 5 went through you” Ray nodded “He was about to get away but Winston got to the other side of the roof in time”

“He just spread a trap and presto! Two ghosts, ready to go” Peter said with a glee that sounded a bit forced.

“I...what?” that can’t be right. That would have taken time and they’d caught him as he fell forward, off the building- no. On his face.He'd fallen, but-

He rushes forward and vomits into a potted plant.

"Brain freeze" Peter sighs behind him. His ears are buzzing again but he can hear him.

"Like when you eat ice-cream?" Winston asks.

"Nah, that's- that's another thing. This is a stress thing"

“Hadn’t seen him throw up since College” Ray says, sounding astounded. 

“Frat night?” Winston asked.

“Bad chinese” Peter grabbed him, wrapping him with one arm “Come on, Egon, let’s get you home”

The moment since they leave the stairs and until he can sprawl himself over the seat in Ecto 1 goes like a blur. He looks up at the building and it dawns on him just how tall it is and again his body resists and tries to grasp the ground beneath him.

Pathetic.

* * *

Janine takes one look at them and immediately know something’s up.

“What happened?” her tone is demanding as four doors open and four boots touch the ground, but her eyes are worried.

“I’m not feeling well” Egon says, leaning on the door as he goes out. His legs still feel like jelly. She starts to come close and he suddenly realizes he hasn’t washed his mouth.

“What is it?” Janine is in front of him and her tone admits no negative.

“I-”

“Well, we told him to leave that funky chinese to the Spud, but when has he ever listened, y’know?” Peter comes to Egon’s aid, making an expressive hand sign to mimic what Egon had done into the plant earlier. She wrinkles her nose, but seems even more worried, so Egon musters strength to glare at Peter, who immediately adds “We’re just gonna take him to lie down now.”

“No kidding” she says, coming closer to Egon and standing on her tipy toes to reach his forehead and feel it. He’s still trembling and covered in sweat, he realizes. She must think he has a fever- she makes a face when she realizes he’s cold and takes his arm, walking him to the stairs “Just how old was that chinese?”

“Very” he mutters, torn between wanting the comfort she seems ready to give and feeling to humiliated to take it.

“Want me to call a doctor?” he shakes his head and she lets out a breath that tells she’d been expecting the answer. Neither of them likes doctors or hospitals much anymore “Alright, then let’s just get you to the coach”

He lets her, because he doesn’t have the energy to resist. She helps him down onto the sofa and brushes a hand over his hair. Ray’s by his side with a glass of water a second later and he drinks down and feels like he can breathe easy for the first time in hours.

“I don’t think we’re seeing any more cases today” Winston mutters, Janine nods.

“I’ll turn the voicemail on”

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day?” Ray offers warmly “We’ll take care of Egon”

She mulls it over for a moment.

“Alright. I could use some time off” she says, and waves them goodbye, starting to leave “Take good care of him”

“Will do”

A while passes and they hear the gate close. Peter comes back from the windows.

“OK, big J’s out. Start talking, Egon. Now”

Very slowly, he does. They don’t look surprised by the time he’s done and it makes him wonder if they just wanted him to admit it out loud.

“This’d be funny if it weren’t infuriating, honestly” Peter says when he’s done. Egon has finally stopped shaking, but he still feels cold and light-headed and very much the fool “You have one of New York’s finest psychologists literally bunking in here with you and you go and do what dozens of blockheads do and try to give yourself therapy”

“Peter” Winston warns.

“Why? We’re all thinking it! I told you something was up and what did you guys say?" he mimics Ray's tone "He hasn’t _asked_ for help, maybe he doesn’t _want_ help. Maybe he’s actually really OK. Maybe this insomnia is just a phase. _Yadda-yadda_. Well" he motions for Egon "Lookie here, he sure did want help, he just wouldn’t ask for it like a normal person”

“I know you’re mad” Egon starts.

“Oh, shucks, _what gave you that idea_?”

“It’s completely understandable” Egon continues “But I assure you I will take measures so today’s blunder doesn’t repeat itself in the future”

“What? _Egon_ ” Peter pinches the bridge of his nose “That’s not what I’m mad about, you knucklehead! You’ve been holding this for _weeks_ even though we’re all here for you!”

“Peter, you're shouting” Ray interrupts

“I know- I know! Just-” Peter's voice is shrill and he keeps running his hands over his face.

“I got a question for you, Pete" Winston intervenes, his tone reasonable, but seeming uncomfortable "Even though your dad wasn’t around much, your mom was reliable, right? You knew she had your back no matter what”

“I... sure” Peter’s face softens at the mention of his mother.

“Well, I had a big family. That doesn’t always necessary mean you can count on them but in my case it did. Ray-”

“I had Aunt Louise. And Cousin Sam, and Cousin Jack, Grandma Lily, and-” Ray counts, gleefully raising a finger for each number.

“That’s lovely, really, what’s it got to do with anything?” Peter asks. Winston paused, bracing himself for what he was going to say.

"Thing is: We three had someone who taught us how to trust others to catch us when we fall, but you, Egon... I don’t think they even taught you that falling was acceptable”

Egon gets to his feet, feeling a bit dizzy -he can’t tell if it’s anger or the remains of his incident earlier. Ray goes to stabilize him immediately and he almost shakes him off.

“I don’t really appreciate having assumptions made about-” he starts, coldly.

“Damn good assumptions, the faculty psychologists couldn't have done them better” Peter cuts in, looking awfully serious “I think he hit the nail on the head”

“It’s not-”

“Egon, you think we'd-? Don't you trust us?” Ray asks, disarming him with his genuine sadness.

“I-”

“But that’s the _thing,_ Ray, he doesn’t trust anyone but himself” Peter continues “Is all he knows and he hasn’t learned any better in all these years”

“That’s unfair” Egon growls. It's more of a whine, really. Of course he trusts them. Of course he knows he can rely on them. The fact that Peter even doubts it is insulting it itself- but...but Winston holds a point. He is sure, by what Peter tells, that if he'd had an incident with the Boogeyman as a child, _his_ mother wouldn't have made him feel as though he couldn't rely on her. Is it really as simple as that? Is he just too used to dealing with things on his own?

"Then _what_ is it, Egon?" Peter demands.

He has to take a deep breath before starting.

"Life is a state of mind" they scoff a bit and he raises a hand, asking them to listen. He's putting all his eggs on this theory of Winston's and he hopes it works because he doesn't know what to do anymore "I've thought so for years, for all of my adult life. When life ends, it's ultimately unimportant in the grand scheme of things-"

"Are you gonna hit us with that speech about the bacteria?" Winston deadpans " 'cause I've heard it and it depresses me"

"...Janine suggested that I am just as scared to die as anyone else" 

"I take it that's why you two have been acting funny these days"

"I admit I was irked by the concept"

"Annnnnd, there it is" Peter sighs "Of course. How dare anyone think Egon Spengler could be something as mundane as afraid of death?"

"Don't be a jerk" Ray mumbles, but he looks upset as well. 

"She was right"

Three sets of eyes set on him, surprised.

"Say what?"

"I've...been afraid ever since that night in the World Trade Center. I feel like I'm falling even when the floor is beneath my feet" he rubs his eyes under the glasses, the words spilling from him "I can't sleep. I can't _think_. It's stupid and I should know better, but-"

Ray is the first one to move. He takes a seat next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders. Winston grabs one of his hands and gives it a hearty squeeze. Peter lets out a sigh and puts his hand on top of Egon’s head, reminiscent of the way Janine had done a while before. He feels like a child. He’s embarrassed beyond belief...but he doesn’t want this to stop just yet, so he stays there and breathes and lets them comfort him. He feels grounded with them around him.

“We should get chinese” Peter says distractedly after a while “All this talk about it made me crave spring rolls”

* * *

It’s months until he can stand on the roof without his heart accelerating and it’s almost a year before he can stand near the edge. He can fly Ecto-II if he focuses on the controls rather than the height. He can look at a building without having the unnerving feeling of ingravity that makes him want to claw into the ground to hold himself steady. He gets better.

But it all starts with one night, one full night of good, dreamless, refreshing sleep, with the four of them hurdled together in a blanket fort in front of the sofa, like kids in a sleep-over, hot cocoa in their mugs and a cowboy movie marathon on TV. Slimer floats above their heads peacefully and steals a cookie or a marshmallow here and there, but even he seems to behave himself just this once. Egon doesn’t even realize he’s falling asleep until he wakes up next morning, Peter’s foot against his face and Ray snoring somewhere near his ear.

* * *

When Janine arrives, he hovers near her desk, trying to find the right words to start the conversation. She beats him to it.

“You got some sleep” her tone is flat. She's stating a fact, no more, but the corners of her mouth curl slightly. 

“I am told I need it” he replies.

“And you listened? Color me surprised”

He averts his eyes, knowing if he tries to look at her and speak, words will refuse to come out.

“ _Ahem_ \- I wanted to thank you”

“Mmh?”

“For...well, you still- you were still...you were still looking out for me, even when...I was being-”

"A butt?"

"I was going to say _unreasonable_ , but I guess that works too" he glances quickly as she lets out a hum, as if satisfied that he’s admitting it out loud "I...thanks"

"Anytime" she says, leaving her purse and coat on the chair to sit on the desk and look at him. He can feel her gaze even if he’s looking elsewhere.

"And-"

"And?"

"...you were. Um. That is...you were right about..." he trails off, pursing his mouth. She lets out a snort.

"Yeah. Tell me something I don't know” her tone finally softens, as well as her expression "Just...do everyone a favor and don't bottle things up again. You don't have to tell us everything if you don't wanna but...sometimes just being in good company does wonders, y'know?"

He thinks of the blanket fort. A loud yawn comes from the stairs.

“Hey, Egon” Ray's voice carries down “You coming for breakfast?”

“I’ll be right up”

Before he can continue -ask if _they’re cool_ , as Peter would put it- however, Janine is back on her feet, already removing her sneakers to replace them with a pair of heels. He grabs her hand to support her as she stands on one foot, but it's barely necessary. One has to admire the way she has the maneuver under control. She still squeezes his hand in thanks as she lowers her foot.

“You go eat something" she says "I’ve still gotta work through those files for the digital record”

“About that...” he shifts his weight and makes himself look at her directly “My offer still stands. If you need help, I'm happy to...”

"Sure" she smiles and looks up at him, eyes warm and starry. He hasn't got a clue what that look is supposed to mean but it always makes a tingle creep up his spine.

"Hey, Janine" comes Peter's voice behind him and they start. Neither heard him come down "Come have some pancakes. Winston's treat"

"Well, if you insist" she says, walking past Egon and up the stairs. Peter grins at Egon impishly, hands in his pockets.

“It's good to be alive, huh?” he winks.

Egon feels his ears hot all the way up to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for not putting too much angst and shipping into these. This chapter was way different as I first envisioned it, but...well, it got out of control and I rolled with it. Whoopdeedoo. Hopefully it's still at least a bit fun to read.
> 
> Next up- So, Winston had to win a baseball game to save Peter's soul. What's with that?

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to spend a ridiculous amount of time thinking about stuff in the RGB universe that literally no one else cares about, so I decided to write about it and see if really literally no one else cares about it. One of those things was the fact that Janine always grabs Peter's uniform in her first busts and the fact that it became so common for her to help out that they eventually gave her her own. And the fact that her color combination is literally the same as another character's except reversed. Seriously. Check it out. I'm not even kidding.
> 
> Next up- Do you figure Egon _really_ got over the trauma falling from the WTC ceiling caused him during the course of 1 (one) episode?
> 
> Title references an interview with Hayao Miyazaki and the name he gives to the 'Gratuitous motion' he gives characters in his films:
> 
> "Instead of every movement being dictated by the story, sometimes people will just sit for a moment, or they will sigh, or look in a running stream, or do something extra, not to advance the story but only to give the sense of time and place and who they are" ~Roger Ebert
> 
> (Right now, even as I write this, I should be studying the atomic structure of matter. Dear God, who let me be an adult?)


End file.
